After bathing, Cheng Lele entered Chen An’s room.

His room wasn’t very large. One wall was a bookshelf several meters long, filled with books. In front of the south-facing window was a black walnut-colored desk, and beside the desk was a matching bed that was one and a half meters wide. Not far from the foot of the bed was a wardrobe. Near the power switch by the wardrobe, several open shelves had been installed. On one of the small shelves sat the little swan she had folded.

When she came in, Chen An was pretending to read a book. Cheng Lele leaned over to look at the title. Three large gold-embossed characters on the white cover: Self-Control.

Cheng Lele deliberately sighed at the bookshelf. “Little brother, the books you read are so varied.”

Chen An said, “Investment requires researching various subdivided fields.”

“What are you researching recently then?”

Chen An said, “Graphics and video rendering.”

Chen An had never talked to Cheng Lele about his work before. This time, he answered so seriously out of nowhere, and the content was overly serious, making it easy to suspect there was no silver buried here.

Cheng Lele thought that what little brother was really thinking about in his heart was definitely something not very presentable.

She found this Chen An very interesting, recalling an interlude song from when she used to watch “Deep Love, Rainy Romance” with her mother as a child. The song title was “Fake Propriety.”

She suppressed the urge to play it for Chen An.

Cheng Lele deliberately sprawled in a spread-eagle position on the light gray bed sheets and urged, “Little brother, why haven’t you made your floor bed yet?”

Chen An said, “I’ll read for a while longer.”

Cheng Lele held back her laughter and instructed with ill intent, “Then study hard, and remember to apply what you learn.”

Chen An said without looking up, “Got it.” His tone sounded quite unfriendly. Even just looking at his back, you could tell he was angry.

There he goes being petty again.

Cheng Lele said, “Oh right, I haven’t told you the meaning behind that little swan yet. Since you want to study, forget it then.”

Only then did Chen An turn to look at her. He put down the book and paused for two seconds. “Learning isn’t urgent for this one moment.”

Cheng Lele smiled. “Little brother, you know that limited edition watches all have serial numbers, right? This luxurious little swan also has a serial number.”

“Really?” Chen An didn’t quite believe it, but was somewhat looking forward to what ghost story Cheng Lele would make up to fool him this time.

Like the very ugly pomegranate that was one of a kind, or the very ugly dog that made them dog mom and dad—he didn’t know what significance would be bestowed upon this ordinary little swan that had no distinguishing features.

Cheng Lele sat up and swung her two bare feet. “I used to work part-time at a five-star hotel. After cleaning the honeymoon suite, we had to fold little swans. At first, I didn’t keep count, but later I thought that the honeymoon suite was a very auspicious and lucky place. After getting my salary, I calculated how many I had folded and worked backward. Then every time I reached a number with 99, I would leave the guest a note. Some guests didn’t believe it and thought I was tricking them for tips, but some guests were very happy—one even gave me a hug.

“What’s interesting is that when I folded the 519th one, I happened to resign. I thought at that time that I must give the 520th little swan to the person I liked. Look, the little swan you received has the serial number 520.”

Cheng Lele pointed at the little swan over there with eyes as brilliant as stars. “My 520, I gave to you.”

Then she spread her hands wide, signaling Chen An to come over for a hug.

Chen An walked over and embraced her. Cheng Lele rested on his shoulder and continued saying sweet words. “Little brother, I used to like you very, very much. Now I like you just a little bit, but in the future I’ll become someone who likes you very, very much. Do you understand?”

Chen An smiled and said “Mm,” his heart melting into sugar water. Tonight Cheng Lele had used the orange-scented body wash from home. Chen An smelled it and felt that this sweet, juicy fragrance full of healthy vitamins seemed to emanate from her very being.

“Cheng Lele, long before I confessed, you had already given me the little swan.”

“Mm, I was originally going to confess first, but you beat me to it.”

Chen An thought Cheng Lele’s heart was truly magnanimous. Clearly it was he who had run off to the provincial capital and left her to the side, causing her confession to be shelved—that would match the actual situation. But the way she told it made it sound like she was sweetly complaining that he had moved too quickly.

“You drank that day because I brought another woman home, right? I always thought it was because we had a fight that you did that.”

Cheng Lele said, “I drank because I was going to make beer duck but didn’t succeed, so I drank in passing. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Uncle Yang.”

Chen An straightened up and looked at Cheng Lele.

Cheng Lele smiled with eyes full of scattered light, reminding him of the dots of stars on the black ocean surface Chen An had seen during a night sailing trip.

“When did you start becoming someone who likes me a little bit?” Chen An’s gaze was gentle.

Cheng Lele said, “I couldn’t bear to let you be so sad, so after I came back, I started working hard to cultivate it.”

Chen An felt these past days were like a happiness bonanza—all along the way were things that made his heart flutter. Thinking that Cheng Lele had been running toward him all along, his heart drummed, as if the whole world had already been embraced in his arms, and he could no longer give birth to any other extravagant wishes.

Chen An lowered his head to kiss her. “Thank you.”

Cheng Lele kissed back and said, “I’m telling you all this, but I’m not trying to seduce you into breaking the rules.”

Chen An pressed against the back of her head, negotiating between pecking kisses. “Can I not sleep on the floor? The floor is so cold.”

“Didn’t you say there’s underfloor heating?”

“The floor is too hard.”

“You said you have a bad back.”

Chen An didn’t plan to let Cheng Lele make any more dangerous statements. He bit her lip, his tongue driving straight in, and conveniently turned off the light. Cheng Lele was kissed dizzy and didn’t even know when she’d fallen onto the bed. Later, when her reason returned a bit, she spoke intermittently. “Little brother, your word… must count…”

Chen An moved away slightly and looked at Cheng Lele by the thin moonlight that filtered in, kissing her left eye. “It’s your fault for being too likable.”

Cheng Lele touched her scalding face. “You academic overachievers have surprisingly amazing self-learning abilities in this area.”

Chen An lifted the soft quilt and covered them both with it, saying casually, “Speaking of academic overachievers, did you know that 519 is the product of two prime numbers?”

Her pupils had adapted to the darkness. Cheng Lele looked at the irregularly geometric small light on the ceiling and said, “Professor Chen, please enlighten me.”

Chen An said, “519 only has two situations: 1 times 519 or 3 times 173.”

Cheng Lele said “Oh,” not quite understanding why Professor Chen suddenly brought up mathematics.

Chen An asked, “When you worked at that hotel, did you work for 519 days or 173 days? Did you work during university? During student days, you can’t work many times a week. Lele, did you work continuously throughout your four years of university?”

Cheng Lele’s back went cold. She had forgotten that Chen An was a national Mathematical Olympiad gold medalist and was very sensitive to numbers.

“It’s not really about working continuously. In my junior year, the school encouraged us to do internships and we had to submit internship certificates. Liberal arts majors had a hard time finding good internship units, so I went to the hotel. I originally planned to just get through two months, but when I was leaving, the manager said they were short on part-time workers and asked me to just come for three or four hours a day. I thought the work was easy, so I kept doing it. Pretty much the same situation as Huang Wei and Zhong Jin now.”

“Junior year.” Chen An said, “That year your godmother was just diagnosed with myeloma.”

Cheng Lele licked her dry lips. “Mm, I was quite scared every day then. Going to the hotel to work helped me avoid overthinking.”

Chen An imagined that scene. He, who had just said he had no other extravagant wishes, greedily gave birth to a very strong desire—wanting to travel back to that time, to embrace her, to rescue her, to tell her not to be afraid.

Chen An held Cheng Lele’s hand. “I’m sorry for letting you face all this alone. I should have gone to find you earlier.”

He slowly caressed Cheng Lele’s palm, repeatedly feeling the palm lines on her skin. “What was your godmother’s new family like?”

Cheng Lele yawned. “My stepfather is a Yue opera enthusiast and also my mom’s fan. He has a son who’s two years older than me.”

“You have an older brother?” Chen An was surprised. “What’s he like? Is he good to you?”

“Very good at making friends, and also very willing to share his circle with me…” Cheng Lele’s voice gradually lightened. Chen An stopped asking, tucked the quilt around her, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Goodnight.”

Cheng Lele’s tense nerves finally relaxed. She turned over, her consciousness slowly became heavy, and she truly fell asleep.